


Fly Me to the Moon

by DarkSophie_Fangirls



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ballet, Ballet Dancer Castiel (Supernatural), Ballet Dancer Dean Winchester, Confused Castiel, Dance Metaphors, Dean is a Softie, Dean is bad at ballet, Destiel - Freeform, Duet Dance Number, Fluff, High School AU, Jealous Dean, Jealousy, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, artist!Cas, ballerina!cas, dancer!cas, fly me to the moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSophie_Fangirls/pseuds/DarkSophie_Fangirls
Summary: Dean misses the deadline to sign up for a recreational activity and he ends up with no other option but ballet class. He decides not to go, but out of curiosity, he checks out the classroom. Not like he's actually going to ballet class or anything, ballet is lame and girly and it would be terrible for his well-known bad boy reputation. The name Dean Winchester is a synonym for trouble, and everyone at school knows it. When he's lured into the ballet room he runs into the single most gorgeous guy Dean has ever laid eyes on, and decides to do whatever it takes (even going to ballet class) to charm his way into his pants. Cas discovers it is horribly hard to ignore Dean Winchester when he's hitting on you, and Dean discovers ballet isn't lame or easy. At all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aaah I've been working on this for the longest time, and I never get to actually post it because I'm editing or adding things or changing little pieces of the plot and whatever, but I finally decided to divide it into a few chapters. I'm guessing from 5 to 10 at the very most. I really hope you guys like this!

Dean takes a second to sigh, close his eyes, and take a deep breath before he keeps walking down the hall like nothing happened. He glances over his shoulder at the door he'd closed just seconds ago and rolls his eyes. It's bullshit, this is bullshit. Internally, he was groaning and protesting, making an effort to come up with an excuse to having to go to ballet class.

"Dean, I'm concerned. You haven't picked out a recreational activity and the deadline was last week." The tutor had said, pretending to care for him. Dean shrugged on the chair for an answer. "Well it's a requirement on your schedule and I'm afraid there's only space left on the ballet workshop." Now that made Dean straighten up on his chair.

"Oh sweetheart I don't dance. And I don't do tights." The tutor pressed her lips harder together on a quiet smile of warning. "I'm afraid there isn't another option." And she handed him a piece of paper "These are the class hours and it will affect your grade directly if you don't attend to those classes. I'll check up your development and we'll have another talk in two weeks. You can go now." Dean rolled his eyes and stood up unamused. He walked towards the door and mumbled _bullshit_ just before walking out the door.

He crushes the sheet of paper containing the class hours into a ball. He wasn't going to need it anyway, it's not like he's _actually_ going to ballet class. But right when he walks up to a trash can to throw in the paper he can't quite get himself to do it. Okay yeah, he's pissed that he didn't get to choose a class but… somewhere mixed with all that annoyance and uneasiness, there's the tiniest bit of curiosity. The vague memory of a younger version of himself wanting to get ballet lessons and being turned down by his dad starts creeping in the back of his head, but Dean pushes it away; at least he tries to.

Almost nervously, Dean starts toying around with the idea of _actually_ going to ballet class, and, as he finds out, it's actually not that bad of an idea. Okay yeah, he'll have to find an excuse, come up with some coverup story about what he's doing in the meantime, because he can't really let people know he's doing ballet. _But_ , a roomful of hot, bendy chicks all for him. And it can't hurt his grades. Besides, it's _ballet_ we're talking about. It's not like it's hard or anything.

In the end, he throws the wrinkled piece of paper into his backpack and walks away. He'll deal with it later.

Except he doesn't. He avoids thinking about it, and when his brain starts doing it without his permission, he runs away from those thoughts and pushes them down. He doesn't even know why he's so afraid of letting himself think about it. But that doesn't mean he can stop doing it.

That's why Dean is barely even conscious that he's standing in front of the ballet classroom and he barely even remembers how he got there. He's just standing in front of the door, staring, and it's stupid. He's not going to join the class no matter how badly it affects his grades. It's just a stupid class and he's not taking it.

But there's something that lures him in the classroom, and he's carefully closing the door behind him before he even notices. When he turns around he realizes he's not alone.

There's soft music that envelops the whole room and Dean vaguely recognizes the sweet melody that seems to fill every corner of the room. The atmosphere is different inside here; the light pouring from the long, wide open windows and the soft breeze it carries with it, the smell of the wooden floor and the sense of infinity the mirrors on the walls give.

Then there's him. Dean can't get a proper glance at his face but damn the guy can dance. The movement of his arms, his legs, the beautiful twists and turns and swift movement of his hands have a resemblance that reminds Dean of ocean waves: crashing, pushing, pulling, moving happily and obliviously, imminent, omniscient, powerful and immensely beautiful. His body seems to know the course of the music and it moves with it, along it, beside it. It looks like he's writing what the music has to say with his body.

And Dean is breathless. He feels like he's witnessing something intimate, like he shouldn't be there, like he's invading the beautiful dark haired stranger's privacy, but he can't bring himself to look away. He's too caught up in the dancing, the carefully placed movement, the sound of the music mixed with the soft sound of the ballet slippers elegantly brushing the wooden floor. It is everything so crushingly beautiful. That boy was made of melodies. Dean doesn't want to breathe or blink or do anything that would interrupt such performance, he just stares in awe. And with his heart beating hard on his chest he hears the last chords of the song. He bites his lip, expectant, unable to move.

When the dark haired guy finally turns he flinches and gasps and swallows a scream. He tries to take a step back, tripping with his own feet and ending up on the floor. "What are you doing here! Who the hell are you!" He mumbles, suddenly overly self conscious, wondering how much had the intruder seen.

"I could ask you the same thing," Dean swallows the mini heart attack he, too, had when being caught staring, and he helps the guy back to his feet.

The dark haired guy frowns "I reserved the room for rehearsal. Your turn."

Dean shrugs, now that he's got a closer look of dancer guy he can see his body isn't the only pretty thing in him. And damn, those eyes. But that isn't the only thing that calls his eye, he stares at the dancer's bare, sweaty chest and bites his lip. "Door was open. If you don't want anyone walking in on you, you should probably lock the door." Blue eyes raises an eyebrow at him. "Those are some killer dance moves you got there by the way." The guy in front of him shrugs and fights away the blush on his cheeks, which only makes Dean smile. "I'm serious. You're pretty damn good."

He turns to look at Dean, "I know."

Dean's smirk widens and he chuckles, "okay, pretty face don't bite off my hand. It's just a compliment." He just stares at him, silent, and Dean waits for an answer without success. "Alright sweetheart, you can keep your precious room. I guess we have an appointment here for the next time you do that pretty dance in… what did you call it?—rehearsal." He winks and walks out of the room.

That's it. He's going to ballet class.

Cas stares pensive at the door, his heart is racing and he's not sure whether it's the dancing or the fact that Dean Winchester just watched him rehearse. _I know_. He mumbles at himself. _You really couldn't have thought of something better to say?_ He sighs, still uneasy and feeling like someone had invaded his privacy, and stretches. Suddenly, he feels a lot more tired and really doesn't feel like going through his routine again, so he grabs his stuff, throws on a shirt and walks away with a weird feeling on his chest about the meaning of what had happened.

*

Dean bites his lip thinking of the pretty stranger's naked chest. Damn it he should get his mind out of the gutter while in class. Thinking of blue eyes tends to have an… interesting outcome. But orgasms aside, Dean was genuinely curious about the guy. He had seen him before—at school yeah, but he felt as he'd seen him somewhere else, as if he knew him. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it and it was driving him crazy.

Dean feels as though time can't move fast enough to make it Wednesday already, and he's annoyed at himself for missing ballet class on Monday. It makes him uneasy to think he's actually eager to see the cute stranger again, but he rules him out as the simplest answer, which must be the right one, he just wanted to fuck the guy. And when that was done and over with so would this stupid crush be.

Math class comes and goes and Dean is still thinking of the unknown dancer he's seen somewhere. Math class, and the remaining days and hours till Wednesday.

As the school day near its end, Dean makes up a half assed excuse about why he can't walk back home with them that leaves Benny and Victor giving him a funny look, but Dean ignores it and trails the path back to the ballet classroom. Right in the corner of the hall, where he can see the faraway, dreamy wooden door, he asks himself what he's doing. Is he really gonna go to ballet class just for a piece of that dancing ass? _What the hell_ , Dean tells himself. _It's a fine piece of dancing_ _ass_.

He hesitates a little, and is about to walk away, but then there's _something_ —a blast of courage?—that makes him turn around and break into the class, all eyes turn to him and he just stands there, awkward smile on his lips and he gets awfully conscious of his own body. "You're late" the teacher breaks the deafening silence and Dean mumbles an incoherent sound as an answer, searching the room for Blue Eyes. But he's not there. No messy, black, rebellious hair, no broad shoulders, muscled chest and strong arms. No cute eyebrows furrowed and no sexy drops of sweat running down a perfectly built body. No long fingers that looked like they could make Dean scream for hours. And most importantly, no blue, glowing eyes. He wasn't there. The teacher—a young woman, maybe in her thirties, tall, muscular but delicate, pretty enough, though that pointy nose doesn't _quite_ fit her, with all her hair perfectly pulled up in a bun with a little pink bow over it—looks him up and down. "Are you gonna change?"

"Oh sweetheart I don't do tights." Dean turns to leave the room, if blue eyes isn't there, it's not worth all the hiding.

The door is opened and Dean holds his breath when he sees who comes through it. Black, messy hair, tan skin, blue eyes that literally fucking _glow_. He bites his lip, now that's what he's talking about. For once, guys wearing tights sounds like the best fucking idea in the world. It's not until he speaks that Dean realizes he was staring and lets out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in that sounds embarrassingly close to a sigh.

"Sorry I'm late, I was working on a presentation for next week and I'm completely going insane, I swear I love Hannah but if she doesn't start working like now I'm gonna kick her out the team." A breath, a pause. "I'm talking too much… sorry."

The teacher smiles, and apparently everyone else in the room does too. "It's okay Cas, don't let it happen again."

 _Cas_. Dean grins, so now that fine piece of dancing ass has a name.

Castiel starts walking towards the line of ballerinas on the back of the room, and encounters the obstacle of Dean on his way. He freezes on his spot and mumbles _oh_ _shit_ under his breath. God, no. Cas panics, and when he panics, he stares, so his bright blue eyes dive into Dean's beautiful greens. He feels uncomfortably self conscious. And wonders what could Dean possibly be doing standing there in front of him. Did it have something to do with the other day? Cas had been wondering what on earth had that meant but damn he didn't expect to see Dean Winchester showing up at his next ballet class. What the hell was going on?

Another thing that Castiel does when he panics is talking too much. "Who are you?" He blurts before he can stop his own mouth. _Damn it you're stupid,_ he mumbles at himself. Of course he knew who Dean was. The whole school knew who Dean was.

"I… uh" well now Dean wasn't expecting that. The hit got him off his feet for a moment and that, combined with the deep ocean staring back at him was enough to make him nervous. He tries to find the something clever to say but his brain is too busy playing a loop of _damn he's hot_ in his head to actually process words. He takes a deep breath, shakes off some of the awkward tension that was building up on his shoulders and tried his best to think of a clever comeback. _Cmon Dean, you got this_. Or maybe he doesn't. All he could think of were extremely cheesy or extremely trashy pickup lines and all of them seemed wrong. Besides what kind of fucked up sadist bullshit is this? Why is everyone staring at him? Look away you morons. Yeah so Dean Winchester is taking ballet lessons. No big deal. Damn it. Stop staring. Specially you, blue eyes. Who do you think you are? No, like seriously, who even stares at another person like that? So unapologetically and deeply and full of curiosity and interest like Dean was some sort of extraterrestrial species he had to explore. Dean's hands begin to sweat and he bites his own lip a little too hard, as he realizes when being warned by the pain. Those two fucking glowing sapphires made him nervous; his brain was stuck, his hands were sweaty, his body was stiff and he felt more irrational and stupid than he had ever felt in his life. "Darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream."

When Dean realizes what he said, he freezes in his spot. The words get stuck in his throat. Oh damn. Oh _damn_. Did he really just quote Taylor Swift?

"Did you really just quote Taylor Swift?" A voice coming from a redhead says from the back.

"That's enough." The cold voice makes the giggling stop. "He's a new student joining our class", the teacher cuts in the awkward silence and _thank god_ for weird-nose-but-still-kinda-cute teacher. "And apparently he forgot his change of clothes so Castiel, be a dear and lend him some, will you?"

Cas grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, okay. Okay. He gives Dean a once over and turns for his bag. "Follow me." Don't get him wrong, it was nice to have guys around in class from time to time, _especially_ guys as hot as Dean Winchester. But that was exactly the problem. It was Dean Winchester. Castiel had probably exchanged three words with the guy before the day of the _rehearsal incident_ , but he knew his name, his face and his reputation. And Dean Winchester was a synonym for trouble. Cas knew he was probably being too hard on the guy considering he didn't _actually_ know him, but ballet class was his sanctuary. It was a special place, somewhere safe and sacred where he could be himself entirely and dance his troubles and worries and joys and sorrows away. And, yeah, maybe he was being a jackass but he didn't want that to be ruined by whining and stupid bro jokes and teasing because "ballet is girly".

Dean stares for one too many seconds at Cas's ass—and internally hopes no one notices—when he bends over to get his bag and hand the spare clothes to Dean. "You should've gotten into the football team." Castiel walks away. And this time Dean can't stare at his ass, he's looking down at the bunch of clothes he's carrying and his head is spinning. He grabs Cas's wrist before his brain can tell him not to and pulls him close, his face just inches away from Dean's, who checks him out. "You do look hotter shirtless."

Blood rushes to Cas's cheeks before he can even have the chance to fight it. He shakes Dean's hand and _successfully_ walks away this time. But Dean is grinning when he goes to change.

When he comes back, Cas thinks guys wearing tights is the best idea in the world.

The class comes and goes. All along, Castiel is a perfect marble statue. His whole body seems to be right where he wants it. His feet are always in the right position, his arms are always perfect to the last inch and his face is no less than exactly that, a statue carved in stone. And Dean… well, he's staring to discover ballet isn't all that easy after all. What makes it a thousand times harder is that his attention is just half dedicated to the class. The other half belongs to Cas. Dean tries to find ways to catch his eye and wink, or slip in a smooth comment, or do _something_ that will let Dean sleep with the guy and get this whole thing over with. By the end of the class his legs, his back and his arms ache. He needs this whole thing to be over with.

The room is emptied slowly, Castiel puts away his ballet slippers, changes to his converse and slips into a pair of cozy sweatpants; he gathers his stuff and sits down, beginning to mindlessly look at his phone. Eventually his battery dies, so he just stares, apparently he's good at that. Not long after, the teacher finishes grabbing her things, waves goodbye, and leaves.

It's just Dean and Castiel now.

Dean walks up to the spot where Cas is seating, which gives him the urge to stand up. Dean decides to stand as close as Castiel as he can possibly be, straps on a flirty, sexy grin and says "you waiting for me sugar?"

Cas rolls his eyes. "Yeah, actually."

That makes Dean raise his eyebrows. That was… unexpected. But good, oh so good. He steps closer to Castiel—if that's even possible—and damn near purrs in his ear. "You got me."

A soft, ironic, and the tiniest bit annoyed laugh falls off Cas's lips. He places a strong hand on Dean's chest and pushes him back, freeing himself from the tiny prison made of the blond guy and the wall at his back. "I do need my clothes back." He states, eyebrow raised at Dean.

Dean laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Of course you do." _Damn it._ He mumbles to himself before going to change.

"And just a bit of advice," Cas says grabbing his clothes when he comes back. "The next time you're trying to pick up a guy, go easy on the Taylor Swift quotes." And he walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean feels like an idiot. Like a damn fucking idiot and he _hates_ it. Three weeks, it had been three weeks of flirting and compliments and smiling and winking and Dean had tried fucking _everything_ already and he hadn't made the tiniest bit of progress with Cas. Had he really screw up his chances with a guy because he slipped in _one_ Taylor Swift quote? Like what kind of bullshit was that? So what, he likes Blank Space? Is that really a deal breaker? Like who even does that. It's a damn good song. And Taylor Swift isn't really that bad. What kind of fucked up person makes Taylor Swift a deal breaker?

He knows, deep down, it doesn't all have to do with that _one_ Taylor Swift quote. But he's pissed and frustrated and he has to take it out at _something_. And his friends notice the mood swings on Dean, they notice how touchy he is and the way that instead of comebacks their jokes are responded with bitch faces. They asked once or twice and every time, Dean gives them the same answer. "I'm _fine_." To be fair, Dean gets quite scary when he's annoyed.

To top it all off, he seems to be seeing Castiel fucking everywhere. The cafeteria, during class, the hall, the bathroom, the way back home, his head. Principally his head. It's like becoming conscious of blinking—annoying, tiring, and you can't wait until you forget it again. But it seems to be that all that annoyance only makes for Dean to want Cas more and more. And it's crazy. "Dean? Dean!" Victor snaps him back to the table. He rolls his eyes and mumbles _what_ dismissing him, not taking his eyes of the black haired guy across the room. "Basketball game on Friday. You coming or not?" It was the third—probably fourth—time they asked him.

"Can't. Got stuff to do."

Benny gives Victor a look, they both know him too well to know the only thing that gets him that annoyed is wanting to sleep with someone and not being able to do it. Whoever the bastard is, they better give in fast, because Dean is getting pretty fucking annoying.

Across the room, Balthazar huffs and rolls his eyes as Cas is eating, lost inside his head, thinking of a certain greened eyed, pretty blond. "What?" He raises his eyes from his sandwich and to his friend.

"He's staring again," he says, looking at Dean. And oh, if looks could kill.

Cas turns to look at Dean, who smiles at him. He returns the smile, almost involuntarily, but to be honest, Dean Winchester has one hell of a charming smile. "Just ignore him." It was a bit hypocritical for Cas to say that, he himself knew how hard it was to ignore Dean Winchester, and the task seemed to be more and more difficult every time, as Dean's attention gradually turned more to Castiel. But he was doing pretty good so far. Although Cas didn't know how much longer he could keep it up, and he had no idea how persistent Dean could be. It was a little annoying, Cas couldn't deny that, but it was also quite cute and funny to see how hard Dean was trying. Everything was okay, until they stepped into ballet class. Bro jokes and teasing weren't a problem, but man could Dean Winchester whine. He didn't want to do the exercises or he was tired or he didn't understand or his clothes were too tight—or too loose—or he had forgotten his bottle of water or his feet hurt or he couldn't do the position or… the list went on and on. Cas had tried to be as nice as he possibly could be, but it was hard to try to help someone while being hit on by that person. Sometimes it was sweet, sometimes it made Cas genuinely laugh, but he wasn't quite sure he liked it—on the other hand, he wasn't quite sure he didn't. Although, the idea of being chased by Dean Winchester wasn't all that bad.

"Who the hell does he think he is to be looking at you like that?" Apparently, Balthazar doesn't think so. He has been especially jumpy since Cas told him Dean had walked in on him rehearsing and now he was mad at the world and overly protective. And Cas was getting tired of being treated as a hopeless baby. He loved his best friend, Balthazar was the sweetest guy ever and Castiel and him had been inseparable since they were little, but he sometimes forgot there were lines they weren't supposed to cross. Apparently, today was one of those days, Castiel notices as he feels his best friend's arm wrap around him and pull him close. "Balthazar… it's okay really. We'll just ignore him and that's it." But his comment goes unnoticed, and his best friend just pulls him closer. Cas lets it happen, he's not quite sure he likes it—but he's not quite sure he doesn't. He rests his head on Balthazar's shoulder and starts talking to him mindlessly.

Dean grunts and drops his food, getting up and starting to leave. "Yo buddy aren't you gonna finish that?" Benny asks, but Dean doesn't even turn to look at him, he just keeps walking. "Not hungry."

"The Novak guy?" Victor says, making Benny turn his eyes to him. "Is that who Dean's got the hots for? Gabe's little brother?" He nods at the table across the room and Benny turns to look at the very cuddly couple. Castiel isn't all that popular at school, and he's not really interested in being popular. He usually just hangs out with the same group of friends he's always had and lays low, drawing as little attention to himself as possible. Except for when he dances. From the moment he sets a foot onstage he's filled with drive and passion and confidence. There is nothing on Earth Castiel does better than dancing. And he knows it.

So some people at school recognize him from his performances, after all, watching him dance is something hard to forget, as Dean had recently discovered, but he was mainly known around the school as _Gabe's little brother_. Gabriel Novak was one of the most popular guys at school—if not _the_ most popular. Charming, handsome, funny, soul of the party, and most importantly: a genius with pranks. And he'd been dating one Sam Winchester for almost six months now.

Back at the cafeteria, Balthazar says something that makes Cas laugh, making Benny and Victor share a look. It's not proper of Dean to go after a guy who's taken. (Castiel and Balthazar had never made their relationship public but cmon. They didn't spend one second of the day without each other, they held hands, they cuddled, they were so a thing). Or, well… someone who's like Castiel at all, so there must be something real special with this kid if it upsets Dean so much that he can't get him.

"Should we like… _do_ something?" Benny asks looking back and forth from the table across the room to his friend sitting in front of him.

"I don't know man, but it's getting annoying."

*  
Dean is at his usual hiding spot, having a smoke. He's buried so deep into the ongoing battle of feelings and thoughts, things he wishes to ignore, and things he doesn't understand, the annoying well-known pain of a migraine starts crippling upwards from the back of his head. He takes a long blow at his cigarette and closes his eyes, letting the smoke soothe him and trying to clear his thoughts a little. And as it had been happening lately, he can't seem to close his eyes without seeing a certain blue eyed dancer. Dean sighs, running from the thought of the dark haired guy for a second. He was overwhelmed by an overflow of emotions and he had no idea why he was so upset. But it was a little frustrating to think that after so many efforts Cas hadn't fallen for him yet. Was it really that hard to fall for him? Dean knew he wasn't exactly Prince Charming… but was he really all that bad? Thinking of his reputation made him shrug. He'd always been really proud of it, always thought it was something to brag about, it gave him a name and a story and everyone at school knew him for it. But, for once, he wishes Cas didn't know him for his reputation, but for who he really was. Not that it was much of anything whatsoever, but he wasn't _exactly_ the heartless, ruthless, son of a bitch everyone made him to be. And he was tired. He was scared that the name he had made for himself would scare Cas away.

He's so lost into himself he doesn't even hear the footsteps nearing him, it's not until a heavy shadow falls upon him that he turns to see the silhouette of the person standing in front of him. Bringing a hand up to shield his eyes, he sees a familiar, nameless face. But the plain sight of it makes Dean's stomach knot with rage. "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" Dean isn't in the mood for bullshit.

"Just keep your hands off what isn't yours, Winchester."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. You really think a guy like Cassie would want anything to do with a guy like you? That's pathetic. You're bad news and Cassie doesn't need you. He doesn't need your trouble. Stay away from him." And he walks away.

Dean has never wanted to punch someone in the face so bad.

*  
Dean avoids Cas for the rest of the week.

Every time they run into each other in the hallway, the bathroom, during class, instead of winking or waving or slipping in some cheesy pickup line, Dean turns away. He looks the other way, he walks away, he sits on the other corner of the room. Leaving Cas with small, awkward, expectant smiles. When Cas waves, he pretends he didn't see anything. If he says hi, Dean storms out of the room. And Cas doesn't like it. He feels awkward and self conscious, and he doesn't exactly know why but he misses it. Not just the attention, but Dean's presence. The days feel lonely and Cas just wants for them to end and go home. On the other hand, he also kinda can't wait for ballet class. There's no way Dean will ignore him at ballet class… right? Cas shrugs when he sees Dean turn and walk the other way when they're about to run into each other. His stomach feels uneasy. Damn it this week is going to be long.

Ballet class finally comes, and when the bell rings letting everyone out of class, a certain blue eyed dancer runs as fast as he can to the nearest bathroom to change. Cas had never spent so much time making sure he looked good on his tights. But after looking at himself in the mirror for long enough to make him start looking weird and out place, he fixes his hair one last time and walks into the ballet room, practicing what he's going to say to Dean when he comes in, thinking of a way he could reach out for him without it being weird. When Dean walks in the room, wearing a perfect poker face, Cas can't decide between waving or saying hi so he does both. Dean ignores both and Cas tries to convince himself he didn't see him and everything will be back to normal during class. There's only one problem: there's nothing. No winks, no smirks, no cheesy pickup lines. Not even a friendly smile, not even _whining_. Dean is dead silent. Everyone notices the sudden change, and Dean can hear the chitchat about it but he literally couldn't care less, he's too tired and too annoyed to care. So let them talk all they want, it's not gonna change anything.

And damn does Cas notice. The room is full of people but it feels empty and awfully lonely. He goes through the motions, moving like the perfect little statue he is and Dean doesn't even _look_ his way. It's weird. And it makes him feel uneasy and uncomfortable with himself. The atmosphere is awfully heavy and loaded with tension, with a bunch of unsaid feelings radiating from Dean, and the air is also stained by Castiel's own feelings. Those weird sensations that make his stomach feel funny when he thinks about Dean. The black matter and space dust inside of him full of little constellations he cannot seem to find or understand. The only thing Cas is sure of, though, is that he misses Dean's presence around him when it's not there.

When the class is over the teacher calls them both to speak to them. Cas sighs in relieve, this is his chance, there's no way Dean can ignore him now. "Dean, I'm surprised with how much progress you've made. I'm really happy with that," she starts, smiling and trying to catch Dean's eye, but he seems lost in his thoughts. And, as Cas discovers, Dean _can_ ignore him, even now. "However, for the upcoming presentation everything has to be perfect, so I wanted you to stay with Castiel to check out the choreography so he can help you with any doubts you have."

Cas smiles at Dean, who just looks straight ahead, still very much ignoring him. "Sure, I can do that."

"Great. I'll check out the progress made next class. See you guys then. Have a nice weekend."

The half-empty room finishes emptying itself. Cas turns at Dean, who is seemingly _still_ ignoring him, and clears his throat, looking for something to say. He finds he's forgotten every single word in the English language. He looks down at his hands that seem awkward and out of place and he moves in his spot, turning back at Dean. Yep, he's still ignoring him. Cas sees the seconds go by impossibly slowly and begs for Dean to say something. But he doesn't. And time doesn't stop but it simultaneously doesn't go any faster so Cas blurts out the only thing he can think of. "Hey…"

"Oh so now you're talking to me? Your boyfriend let you do that?" Dean snaps, making Cas raise his eyebrows and open his mouth to speak, but he's speechless. _What?_

"Okay… uh… well uh… see… I don't know what's bothering you so much but I don't have a boyfriend." Dean turns to look at him for the first time all day and he just rolls his eyes. "Dean… I don't know what's going on or what I did but—"

Dean cuts in. "Seriously? You don't have a boyfriend? You just cuddle in the middle of the cafeteria with the first cute guy with a British accent that looks at you right I guess." He shrugs, not even knowing himself what is bothering him so much, but he's _mad_. And he's _confused_. And he wants it to _stop_.

Cas tilts his head in confusion, of all the stages of cute Dean he's seen so far—and he's seen quite a few—, this one is definitely the cutest. Pouty and grumpy and just plain adorable. He smiles to himself and represses the urge to laugh a little. "Balthazar?" Cas frowns softly, then smiles again, "Dean, he's just my best friend. And he's French, not British," the statement makes Dean roll his eyes so hard he gives himself a headache and Cas silently curses himself from talking too much. He clears his throat and tries again, "really, he's not my boyfriend."

Grumpy Dean rolls his eyes yet again. "Does he know that?"

"Of course he knows that. We've been best friends since we were little and we've always been there for each other. So, yeah, maybe we spend a lot of time together and we cuddle and whatever. But we're just friends, Dean, nothing could ever happen between us. It would be too awkward… we know so much about each other… he's my best friend and I love him. Just not in that way." He smiles softly. "And let's get one thing settled, I'm not a cafeteria cuddle whore. If you want to cuddle me you have to buy me lunch first."

A little bit against his will, Dean smiles for a fraction of a second before strapping on the poker face again and returning to the subject, thus feeling his whole body being filled with rage little by little again. "You say he's not your boyfriend but you treat him like he is," Dean sighs and rolls his eyes. Cas had never met someone who did that so much. "You know what it's stupid. Do whatever the fuck you want."

"Dean…"

"No, seriously. You go ahead and play boyfriends with that asshole, not that it even matters. But just for the record, you can do better."

A sigh falls off Castiel's mouth. "I don't have to do better because we're not a couple. No matter how much couple-y stuff we do. He's just my best friend and you—" not until then it hits him. Cas frowns and tilts his head full of curiosity. "Are you jealous?"

Dean straightens and stiffens in his spot. "What? Pff of course not! Wh-jealous? Why would I be jealous?"

Laughter starts pouring out of Cas's mouth. But it isn't mocking, mean laughter like Dean had expected, no. It's just pure, joyful, funny laughter. And it makes Dean smile, no matter how hard he tries not to. "You're jealous!" He squeals and laughs a little more, which makes Dean start laughing.

"No I'm not!" He says trying to keep a straight face—and failing. And as Cas keeps laughing Dean can't help but imitate. "Shut up." They laugh a bit more. Then they laugh a lot more. And it actually feels damn good to let go of all the awkward unwanted tension.

Laughter goes hysterical when Cas starts tickling Dean. "Oh stop!" Dean says, on the verge of tears, stomach aching from all the laughing, until he starts his own counter attack that chases Cas off to the floor, taking him down, and making him laugh and giggle and squeal and let out little screams that are the cutest thing Dean has ever heard. Dean climbs on top of him and tickles him a bit more, not minding how many times Cas asks him to stop. When Dean looks into Cas's eyes, the tickling stops. They're both lying on the floor, one on top of the other, all messy and sweaty and heavy breathing and having the longest staring contest ever as Dean ever so slowly leans so close to Cas, he can feel his warm breath tickle and caress his skin. So close, their lips brush when Dean speaks in a whisper. "So what if I am?"

And they kiss.

Cas's heart stops at the mere sense of being complete he gets from having Dean on top of him, he becomes conscious of every spot their bodies are touching and decides they're not enough, so he throws his arms around Dean's neck and pulls him close, feeling his strong arms embrace him and grab him by the waist, making him feel protected and safe. Their lips dance and move and slowly, they build up into one another with soft strokes and slow, but hungry movements and the sweetest poison that is Dean's taste. Castiel can't get enough. That's why he dismisses it when his lungs cry for air and pulls the other guy closer, digging his hands into the sandy, silky, blond mess of a desert Dean's hair is. Playing with it and pulling ever so softly at it, being rewarded by the sweetest sounds coming from Dean's mouth and pressed against his own. And damn, that's a kiss.

They part, even messier and sweatier and heavy breathing intensified, but they don't have time to think about it because Dean pulls his little dancer in for some more of those sweet lips.

Before they even know it, their "rehearsal" hour is almost over, but they couldn't care less. Sitting on the floor, laughing and kissing and talking and touching. The hour comes and goes, along with many others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah I'm really proud of the ending of this chapter, lol. I Give it some love on tumblr my friends! I'm just getting started witg the bog (I'm running it with some friends) and we could really use the support! Please go check it out, audere-est-facerex on tumblr! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is also on tumblr, as a part of my art blog audere-est-facerex. Go give it some love! https://audere-est-facerex.tumblr.com/post/163278545131/fly-me-to-the-moon1


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